closed starter— @reaver-king.
A client’s name, and not the kind who wanted her information. It was an oddity when she first saw it, hefty coin being paid for a whore’s time in the evening. Then she saw the name.
Gangplank.
Of course someone like him found her, after she painstakingly made sure she disappeared after every informant gig she got. Had the coin not been so much, she would have ripped the note that came with it and made herself scarce from Bilgewater for the next few months. But there was also something she found interesting about the parchment, and the request written on it for her.
“The docks, after dark. Wear something acceptable,” Scoffing, she shoved the note in her bra, pulling on the dress skirt she had to straighten it. By no means was it the prettiest thing, crinkled from laying in the back of a drawer for so many years. It was a miracle it still mostly fit in all the right places. Perhaps one of her only items left after her parents threw her out, the black dress fell just above her knees, the ruffled sleeves portraying an aire of class that was no longer her’s to claim. Gangplank didn’t seem like a man who partook in classy women, but Hook was never one to deny good money, nor look a gift horse in the mouth. So long as the reaver king didn’t attempt to rend her head from her shoulders, she’d take a chance.
The sun finally sank below the horizon, and she turned a corner to the docks, looking around. Standing in public wouldn’t be an option for him, not with Fortune still acting like she ran the place, so it wasn’t a shock when she saw nothing nears the docks but barrels of gnarly fish. This was definitely where he specified though, whether they left the docks once they met or not was another subject. Jorie hoisted herself onto one of the closed barrels, perching herself while she waited for her date.













